


Sharing Forever

by Ryu_Reikai_Akuma



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Afterlife, Depression, First Kiss, Ghosts, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Some Description of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:05:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7354660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma/pseuds/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kili could find no peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharing Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by Stephen King's [Willa](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Willa_\(short_story\)). Obviously he's the better horror writer, but I did try (under the influence of medication). Did I do okay? I'll let you decide.

They were starting to rebuild Erebor. As soon as they buried the dead, the dwarfs started to move inside the old mountain kingdom, their old abandoned home. Kili watched quietly as they cleaned the remnants of war and nearly a century of being occupied by a dragon. This was a new chapter in their history and the dwarfs were determined to leave behind the sorrow and longing that had for so long plagued them. Kili followed the workers, exploring rooms and halls he had previously only glanced at, learning what he had previously only heard of and barely seen. Erebor was bigger than he ever imagined and it took a while for Kili to memorize his way, the twists and turns of its dark tunnels confusing him and leading him astray whenever he dared to go alone. Often he found himself alone in a dark corner in the mountain, surrounded by dusty history, unsure how he had managed to get there. Sometimes he stumbled upon remains of those who hid from Smaug and it never failed to strike him how terrified they must have been, facing a fire-breathing beast immune to their sharp swords and axes and battle experience. One time he found the bow and arrow he had abandoned before joining the battle and he turned away, chest aching, to roam the mountain he had defended but would never be his home.

At night, when the builders had gone to rest, Kili stood vigil at the balconies, watching the region once called Desolation of Smaug and the tents housing those who rebuilt Dale and Erebor. There, hundreds of sleepless restless warriors wandered, just as he did. Kili watched them every night and noticed with no small amount of relief that their number decreased as the days went by. Peace found them one by one until there’s none left. The field was quiet at night and the only ones awake were Kili and the guards watching over the hardworking dwarfs and Men. Once Erebor and Dale were deemed safe enough, even they and the tents disappeared into their new permanent homes. All Kili see then was empty land covered by a thick white sheet of snow. Winter winds howled, the season harsher than anything he had ever seen at home, but everyone was safe now from both enemy and the elements. The thought was relieving, but there was a gaping hole where discontent, guilt, and yearning dwelt that couldn’t be filled. Kili returned inside the mountain.

Kili heard his name mentioned once in a while. Many pitied his fate, the youth interrupted by a war. Others thought less kindly of him, thinking that he, too, had succumbed to the dragon’s sickness. Both of them were wrong. His youth had been interrupted before that, when he insisted on going on the quest, taking upon himself a responsibility he hadn’t realized had been too heavy for him. How naïve he had been, believing that his limited experience was ready for such a task. His mother had warned him, begged him to change his mind, but he stubbornly didn’t listen to her. How right she had been to try to stop him. How wrong he had been to not listen. Kili could barely bear to recall the memory of the mountain home (his only home) and the people he had left behind (his mother. His poor, poor mother). He had overestimated himself, hurting everyone in the process. The only correct guess he made was that although he was a Durin, the dragon’s sickness hadn’t touched him. Instead, it had been blind loyalty and respect that had muted him, stolen his voice when he should’ve used it to protect the honor he had mistakenly believed automatically and irrevocably belonged to a king. Kili bit his lip. There was no way to justify or lighten the mistakes he had made, the harm he had caused.

For days he wandered the long dark halls of Erebor, quietly keeping to the shadows to avoid attention. He used to laugh and sing, but now, after the battle, he couldn’t quite summon his voice. Once in a while, people looked to his direction, but they immediately looked away and returned to their tasks. There was a time when such ignorance angered him, but the time was long gone. Now, he was just glad to not disturb anyone, be a burden more than he already had. As dwarfs worked on the reconstruction, Kili stood as still as the marble kingdom, watching silently what he was no longer a part of, fervently hoping that he was doing enough.

It was when he was observing the builders that Fili found him one day. He spotted Kili despite the cover of darkness and, unlike others, he didn’t look away. The smile he gave was familiar, as if they were still at safe at home and a battle hadn’t occurred mere weeks before. Kili was momentarily startled, not quite expecting to see his brother, but he quickly recovered. Of course. If he was here, then Fili must be, too. After all, no one shared his actions, the good and the bad, more than his brother. He swallowed the guilt and returned his brother’s smile. It was the first time he smiled since the battle, he realized. The gesture felt somehow out of place after everything that had happened. Kili felt he had to remain grim, unhappy for what he had and had not done. He looked at Fili, wondering if he felt the same, but Fili’s smile seemed genuine, gladness reaching his eyes as they were reunited, but Kili didn’t immediately believe him—Fili knew too well how to pretend to be fine.

"I thought you've left," Kili said.

"Not yet," Fili said, looking at the workers. One of the dwarfs paused and frowned at them, but the sounds of metal tools hitting marbles drowned Kili and Fili’s voices and he returned to his work. Fili smiled warily, for one moment betraying his true bitterness. "What are you doing here?"

Kili shrugged. "Watching them rebuild Erebor."

Fili stood next to Kili, watching as the dwarfs before them broke collapsed pieces of marbles that blocked entrance to deeper parts of Erebor. Thick cloud of dust filled the small space as some pieces finally fell away. Instinctively, Kili and Fili turned their heads away. When the dust had settled, a hole large enough for adult dwarves was revealed. Kili smiled warily when one of them taking a piece of map and started giving orders on how to proceed from there. He and Fili were supposed to be a part of this army of builders and guards, or perhaps a part of the king’s court, attempting to resurrect the abandoned kingdom. They had been raised for these purposes, to be warriors and princes and the future of their people, but they were here instead, powerlessly watching others assumed the roles which were supposed to be theirs. This inability to realize their expected future hurt in a different way from their past failures, but both stemmed from the same heavy burden: Guilt.

For a moment, Kili thought of sharing his thoughts and feelings the way he had never hidden anything from his brother. But then he realized that they already were sharing, although in not so many words. Their presence here, their quietness, the dwarfs before them were evidence of that. "Where have you been?" Kili asked instead.

"Dale," Fili answered unexpectedly. He smiled wryly when Kili looked at him in surprise. "I want to see how they're doing. The last time we saw them they weren't doing so well."

No, they hadn’t been well at all. Fresh from the demolition caused by Smaug, the people of Laketown had had to face an army of orcs without any proper weapon. The elves had helped them, but considering the scale of the battle, it's unlikely that the aid helped much. Kili recalled seeing Men among the bodies littering the field outside Erebor during the battle. Guilt lanced through Kili's heart. That hadn’t been their battle to fight. Those people were victims of circumstances. They're innocent, seeking only what had been promised to them: A chance to continue their lives and to have a home. They had wanted the same thing as the dwarfs of Erebor, but old grudges had blinded the Company from that.

"How are they faring?"

"I wish I could tell you that they're all right," Fili said grimly. "So many were lost—men, women, children, the elderly. Of those who made it here, less than half survive."

Kili's face fell. He knew better than to expect good news but learning the truth still wasn't easy. The Lakemen had turned him away when he had sought help for his injury but he held no grudge for them, especially in light of what had happened later. They were only fishermen, though some wore the garbs of guards. They should've been protected by not only the elfs but also the dwarfs, yet they had been left to their own devices and forced to fight. It was yet another failure on the Company’s part, another failure on _his_ part.

"But the Bard proves to be an excellent leader, if rather reluctant," Fili continued. "He's leading his people to rebuild Dale with the help from the elfs and Iron Hill dwarfs. I'm confident that they will succeed. It will probably take a long time, but they will succeed eventually."

Kili nodded, noting the hopefulness in Fili’s voice. The world is an uncertain place, but it never stops anyone from wishing for the best. Kili would have to visit Dale, see with his own eyes the hope in the hearts of Men and the prospect of a bright future for the region just as they had been promised. The thought reminded him of Thorin and Kili inhaled sharply in realization. If he and Fili were here, Thorin must be, too. After all, compared to them, he had more ties with Erebor. He wouldn’t so quickly leave. He must be in this mountain somewhere, somehow evading Kili in all his days of aimless wandering. Longing rose within Kili. He had assumed that Thorin had left, had resigned himself to loneliness and yearning, but since Fili was here, his hope of seeing Thorin resurfaced.

"Have you seen..."

Fili shook his head, knowing what Kili meant without him saying it. "No, but he must be somewhere here."

Kili bit his tongue to keep himself for pursuing the question, hoping his expression didn’t give his feeling away. The brothers watched the workers a few minutes more before retreating to the shadows unnoticed. They never parted since, observing the renovation taking place in the region, memorizing dark halls and rooms, guarding what didn't belong to them but their people. It’s as if they returned to the past, when they were nearly inseparable, when Fili protected Kili and Kili found troubles to get into for himself and Fili. However, the merriment was absent now. They had seen the world. They had seen death and carnage. They had seen too much. They could never return to how they used to be. They knew now the true bitterness of the world where dreams and plans something never came to be no matter how one hoped and tried fervently.

But knowledge of the trials of the world couldn’t completely extinguish hope. Taking care not to let Fili know, Kili looked for Thorin. He strained his ears and watched shadows for any sign of him. A deep yearning grew within him, growing stronger by each passing day, enhanced by guilt for being away and unable to provide comfort or entertainment or anything Thorin wanted. Never had he gone so long without his uncle, without his attention, without even catching a sight of him. Knowing he was somewhere here in Erebor and yet only having memory of him to contend himself with, was a torture that cut beyond flesh, beyond bones, beyond his vulnerable tangibility. Kili hid this from Fili, just as he had hidden it in the past, disguised it as loyalty and filial admiration when in truth it was Thorin’s love he yearned for. His affection for Thorin was unnatural and he didn’t want to repulse Fili—and Thorin, if he ever knew. Kili didn’t want anyone to know and he knew better that to hold out any hope for returned affection. Even now he only wished to know that he was all right, that he took the unexpected twist to his plan well. His feelings mattered less than knowing that Thorin was all right.

However, it was Dis who they saw a few months later when snow had disappeared and green slowly returned to the mountain. Kili realized her arrival first, spotting her carriage in the distance when he and Fili were at a balcon. He would recognize it anywhere, having spent many summers travelling with her on it. Her signature violet color stood out among the green landscape. The guards who accompanied her looked worse for wear, having braved the harsh winter crossing Middle Earth to go to the home she was promised. Except, it wasn’t the kind of homecoming which had been promised to her. Kili gripped Fili's arm tightly. "Mother is here," he choked out.

Though he knew that it would happen sooner or later—dwarfs wouldn’t be able to resist the call of home for long—Kili almost didn't dare to go see his mother. He wasn't sure what he feared, her grief or disappointment of what everything had come to. He never liked causing his mother anything but happiness, but he wanted to see her. It had been so long—too long—since he left Ered Luin. He wanted to tell her how he thought of her often in quiet nights on the road and how he missed her kisses and even her scolding. He had left her claiming he was an adult and she had believed him, but he had only proven his incompetence. Looking at Fili, Kili knew his brother felt the same, his closed eyes and clenched jaws hiding the pain he was in. Full of guilt, Kili left to see her, clutching Fili’s hand as tightly as Fili clutched his.

They stood half hidden behind a tall pillar as Dis came before the new king of Erebor. Kili watched her, consumed by regret. This wasn't the way she should return to Erebor. She should've been welcomed with feasts and celebrations. Banners should be raised in her honor and songs sung to praise her. She should be brought before her cheering people as a princess finally returning to the home where she belonged. However, there was no welcoming party and the only songs were whispered by the mountain in mourning of those who had perished in the battle. She should be wearing her silk dresses and beautiful jewelries, becoming the envy of all dwarf ladies, showcasing the returned wealth of her royal family. Instead she came clad in black, her face pale as death, her eyes brimming with tears as she bowed to her cousin.

"Dis," Dain started, sadness in his voice and eyes. His famous temper was nowhere to be seen as he slowly rose from the throne to welcome his cousin. "Don't bow to me. You have more claim to this throne than I do."

From the dark Kili could see his mother's chin tremble. "I don't want your throne. The only thing I want is to stand beside my brother and my sons."

Kili swallowed thickly and squeezed his brother's hand. His eyes stung, his tears barely held at bay. When he glanced at him, he saw that Fili looked very pale and seemed to waver along with the dancing flame of a nearby torch. Worry and grief were etched on his face as he squeezed Kili's hand back, sharing the strength he barely had.

Dain left his throne to approach Dis. The new king put a hand on Dis's shaking shoulder. “Forgive me,” he apologized mournfully.

Dis shook her head and lifted her head high despite the tears running down her face. “I know you’ve done all you could. You came to their aid. That’s…” she stopped, choking on her tears.

Dain squeezed Dis’s shoulder lightly. Sadness, too, overcame his expression, but he withheld his grief. "Let me show you their tomb,” he offered quietly.

Kili watched as Dain led Dis to the tomb. He looked at Fili, who seemed resigned, and gently tugged his hand to lead him to follow Dain and Dis for as much as it hurt, he didn’t want to lose sight of his mother yet, not after everything, not after leaving her in Ered Luin and not coming back as they had promised. Though they knew they could do nothing but watch, they still followed. However, just before they left the throne room, a movement from the shadows at the edge of the throne room drew Kili's attention. He stopped. Though it was dark, he immediately recognized the familiar feature of the dwarf he spent decades watching in longing. As it had always been, he was seized by desire to reach out, to touch, to steal a moment to secretly show his love.

"Thorin," he breathed.

His voice was soft, but it didn’t go unheard. Fili turned around in surprise but Thorin, seemingly aware that he had drawn attention, stepped away from the torchlight. Once again the darkness cloaked him and he disappeared from view. The throne room was quiet and still, not a single footstep was heard. It’s as if Thorin had simply disappeared into thin air or, worse, had never been there at all. Both thoughts pierced Kili’s heart deeply. He tried to run after him but Fili held his hand tightly and shook his head.

“Leave him be. He will come to us when he wants to.”

Kili wanted to argue, longing to see Thorin, to make sure that he was well, but Fili was right—they would meet Thorin when he wanted to see them. He also didn’t want to disgust Fili, his closest friend and now only companion, the only one who understood the pain of watching those they love be in pain with no power to act. With a heavy heart, he followed Fili’s lead, walking after Dain and Dis. He looked back before the throne room was out of sight, at the shadows there, wondering where Thorin was now, watching the future he had dreamt of never coming to fruition.

In the deepest heart of Erebor, the three tombs of sons of Durin lied. They were finely crafted and decorated, the green marbles carved with depictions of their achievements in the recent battle. Kili recalled his end, the pain of a sword going through his chest, the chilling darkness, the numbness when he woke to find himself in the midst of war, standing above his body pierced and ripped by swords, arrows, teeth, and claws. He had sought Thorin and Fili frantically then, but it had been too chaotic, too many allies and enemies fighting for their lives around him, too much blood spilled, too tall a mountain of bodies stood. He had found them too late, when shrouds had covered their mangled bodies. Kili swallowed and watched in silence as Dis approached the tombs and ran her trembling fingers upon the lids. Her steps were slow as if she was burdened by a great weight. Suddenly, before Thorin’s tomb, she fell to her knees.

“My sons,” she wept inconsolably. No parent wants to bury their children, but she didn’t even have the chance to bury hers. “Thorin,” she sobbed. Behind her, Dain bowed his head. In the shadows, her sons cried for her. The marble walls which were once home to her reflected her sobs, coldly echoing the cries of the women who had lost their fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons in the battle. Dis cried the harder.

Dain housed Dis in an enormous room on the royal wing filled with the finest things from all across Erebor. He treated her as one would a king, yet she still clad herself in simple black dresses and spent most of her time mourning her family. Kili and Fili stayed by her side, though they could do nothing to comfort her. They bit their lips whenever she cried for the sons and brother she lost, wishing they could wrap her in their arms. When she slept, they watched over her, guiltily observing tears escape her eyes even in sleep. Sadness left deep marks upon her face and body. Where there had been strength and spirit, now only a deep hollow remained. Though she breathed still, she was a living ghost, her spirit having departed along with her kinfolks.

Kili had the vaguest memory of such misery. In the first few years after his father’s death, Dis had mourned endlessly. He recalled her quiet cries at night, when none should’ve been awake. He had been worried then and confused to see his mother in such despair. She had seemed barely consolable, but at that time she had her sons still, young dwarfs in need of her care and guidance and so she made herself strong for them. They had given her purposes until she found new ones on her own. But now, there was nothing left for her, no one lived beside her, no one to give her reason to recover. She was the last of her kin, the last of the royal family of Durin, and her grief and loneliness stabbed even the unbeating hearts of ghosts.

“I can’t stand seeing her like this,” Kili whispered throatily as he watched Dis sleeping on her chair, her face still damp with tears. “I can’t stand here and do nothing while she cries for us.”

Fili’s lips twisted grimly. “Me, neither. But there’s nothing we can do.”

Kili shook his head ruefully. He left her chamber for the first time in weeks and let his feet take him wherever they wished. His footsteps, heavy with distress, echoed quietly in marble hallways, but he gave no care to those who stopped to listen. He wandered through endless corridors. Exhaustion didn’t touch him now, so he easily lost track of time. When he found himself at a balcony at the highest peak of the Lonely Mountain, the moon was already high in the sky and the city of Dale below was alight with tiny dots of flame from lanterns.

Even at this altitude and at this hour, he didn’t feel the chill at all. A deep inhalation of the night air brought no relief. Nearby guards didn’t turn to acknowledge him. Even if he screamed, all that would be heard was a whisper, so easily carried away by the winds. Kili leaned on a pillar for support, hating the powerlessness of his inexistence. Was this punishment for his past mistakes? He admitted to many wrongs, deliberate and otherwise, and he was prepared for penance. But Dis had done no wrong. Her actions were driven by love and how could love be wrong? She shouldn’t be punished for her sons’ mistakes. They alone should face the consequences while she who loved them too much should be spared. But the words of a ghost reached no ear, let alone its thoughts and wishes.

The crescent moon reached the peak of its course and the stars were all the brighter as the lights in Dale were extinguished one by one. The people of Dale slept, but there was no rest for Kili, no reprieve in unconsciousness. The hopelessness weighing his mind was as heavy as when he first came there. This wasn’t a problem with any solution, as his ability to act had been revoked with his death. This was a problem he could only watch as it unfolded, cutting through him in the process. Dejected, Kili returned to his mother’s chamber, missing the days his voice would find her ears and his arms could embrace her to offer some joy and comfort, to take away some of her sadness. He swallowed thickly, his arms aching to hold his mother, knowing that these actions were now only memory, never to happen again.

When he arrived in the now dark apartment, Fili was nowhere to be found. Perhaps the pain of seeing Dis mourn for them had become too heavy for him as well. Fili was a paragon of patience and resilience in Kili’s eyes, but he was only a dwarf. The limit to this type of pain could only stretch so much and it had been very difficult for them to accompany Dis silently. Though worried, Kili knew he would return. They couldn’t abandon their mother, even if they could do nothing more than watch her. If keeping her company was all they could do, then that’s what they would do. Not feeling better (perhaps he should talk to Fili more, share more with him. Perhaps just being with him wasn’t enough, just as it wasn’t enough for Dis), Kili went to Dis’s bedroom.

The sight of a figure by her bedside made Kili pause as he entered Dis’s room. He first thought that it was an intruder and protectiveness and powerlessness battered him in turn. But the unnatural stillness gave him chance to take a closer look. He inhaled quietly when he recognized Thorin. Like Fili and Kili he was clad in the clothes he was buried in: A black heavy robe with a long train trailing behind him, fine chainmail armor, and dark blue tunic sewn and embroidered with gold thread. There were rings on his fingers and golden belt around his waist, but on his head there was no crown. It reminded Kili of days of silence and madness, of poor decisions and declaration of unnecessary war. But there was no greed in his face, though there was no peace, either. His gaze on his sister was full of regret that Kili knew all too well. Kili longed to ease his pain. Unlike with Dis, this was possible, his voice would be heard and his touch felt, but he wasn’t sure such gestures were welcomed. Thorin had always preferred to bear his burdens alone, unaware that there’s someone right before him more than willing to take some of it.

Thorin stood there for a long time, as unmoving as a stone. Then, he closed his eyes and slowly turned away. His eyes found Kili’s but he gave no reaction, his face a blank mask. This indifference after so long an absence, after so long of searching, hurt deeply. However, Kili clenched his hands and kept his face neutral, giving nothing of his feelings away, stupidly not wanting to lose whatever tenuous connection he still had with Thorin. For a lifetime he had hidden his affection, now in death he would do it again.

Thorin stopped before Kili. The proximity was a test after so long apart, but Kili only let curiosity to appear on his face. Thorin studied him strangely for a while before exhaling quietly. “She’ll be all right.”

“How would you know?” Kili asked, full of doubt.

“Your mother is a strong dwarf. She’ll find her strength again.”

Kili looked at the lines of grief on Dis’s pale gaunt face. “Will she find it on time?” he wondered quietly, fear clouding his voice and eyes.

Thorin patted his shoulder and Kili was hard-pressed not to close his eyes to savor it. His body was cold, the weight of his hand strangely light, but this was Thorin and in death and in life Kili would always relish his touch. “Have faith in her.” He offered a small smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. Perhaps he realized the hollow comfort as well, because he averted his eyes and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Kili asked, reluctance to let go barely touching his voice.

Thorin paused but didn’t turn around to face Kili. “I don’t know,” he answered softly. Then, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Kili with Dis. Though Kili waited for him for a very long time afterward, he didn’t return.

Kili didn’t tell Fili about Thorin’s visit, respecting his wish to be left alone, though it cut Kili so. He was slightly comforted only by the knowledge that Thorin still cared deeply for his family. Every night, Kili left Dis’s room after she retired to bed, knowing that Fili would do the same as he. Sometimes, when he came back he would find Thorin by his sister’s bed. These times Kili wished Thorin wasn’t so strong. These times he wished he would cry, release some the very heavy burdens in his mind, have some comfort in the brief loss of control over emotion. But Thorin was the strongest dwarf Kili knew even now. He didn’t cry though deep sadness was in his eyes. There was nothing Kili could do but keep quiet, once again relegated to watching uselessly from the shadow. No further word was exchanged since the first night Kili find Thorin in Dis’s room. Words of assurance remained at the tip of Kili’s tongue while understanding strangled his throat and stole his voice. When Thorin left, Kili could only look, lips pressed closely together, hands clenched tightly into fists, heart broken repeatedly into pieces. He hoped Thorin never suspected that tears rimmed Kili’s eyes after darkness swallowed him.

In the morning, when Fili had returned, Kili pretended nothing was amiss. It was far too easy to distract Fili as Dis had run out of tears but sadness still enveloped her. Her attendants whispered their worries of watching their princess turn to dust. Kili and Fili feared it might be true. They had heard of elves wasting away in heartbreak. Could dwarves crumble due to the same? Dis’s paleness, cold eyes, and stillness were eerie reminders of statues of past royalties found in many parts of Erebor. Sometimes Kili tried to touch her so he could assure himself that she was still made of flesh and bones, still soft and breathing, still alive unlike them, but his fingers passed through her and he pulled away. He was no longer with her, he remembered. Though he was here right beside her, watching her, aching for her, he was no longer with her.

Remembering Thorin’s words, Kili tried to believe in Dis’s strength. She had overcome losses so many times when battle after battle claimed her loved ones. She had recovered from each one of those, standing tall and proud, a true Durin. Surely now, even though it seemed that she had no more purpose to cling to, she would recover. However, one could never know for certain what grief and hopelessness would bring someone to. When one night Kili returned from his wandering to see his mother’s bed empty and her entire apartment deserted, panic quickly set in. Desperate, he ran through corridors, searching for her, wishing he still had his voice to call her name or to ask for help to find her. But the darkness hid her and the silence swallowed his shouts and everywhere he turned there were only empty halls. Kili’s chest constricted in fear and had he had any breath, he would’ve been suffocated by now, but now there was only sharp ache in his heart and torturous thoughts of the worst.

“Kili!”

Kili turned around at the harsh whisper. From the shadows Thorin emerged with hasty steps. There were urgency in his tone and great worry in his eyes that made Kili immediately alert. His heart no longer beat and his blood had long since drained, but he felt cold still as fear spread across his body.

“Your mother! Come, quick!”

Kili quickly followed Thorin’s wide steps. He ought to ask what had worried Thorin so, but he found himself silenced by fear. Seeing Dis’s fragile state of mind, he didn’t want to speculate and feared the truth. Kili walked winding corridors and paths behind Thorin, forcefully focusing only on keeping up with him. It wasn’t until they moved deeper and deeper into the mountain that he realized where they were going and why Thorin was so concerned.

There was no one this deep in the mountain. Few bothered to visit, as memory was enough for them. There were a few candles to light up the way and the place, but darkness seemed to swallow every bit of light. Despite this, somehow Dis managed to find her way to the tomb of her last kin. She knelt before Thorin’s tomb, looking pale and frail as a ghost, clad in nothing but her grey sleepwear. She didn’t cry, but it was hardly a relief. There was grief deeper than the mines of Erebor in her eyes and hollowness in the way she carried herself. Despaired, hopeless, alone, she had come to her dead brother and sons.

Kili instinctively reached out for Dis but his hand slipped through her as if she, and not he, was nothing but a mirage. He looked at her, hoping against hope that she realized that she’s not alone, but she remained unmoved. Kili fisted his hands as he looked at her miserably.

“I was waiting for all of you,” Dis said, her voice as soft, thin, and cold as night wind. She turned to Fili’s tomb. “You insisted this was your duty. No matter how I told you that there was no need to go to battle—not yet, not at your age—you felt you had to go as a Durin prince and heir. You were always a good child, Fili, but this time, just this once, you didn’t listen.” A rueful smile curled on Dis’s dry lips as she gazed at her oldest son’s tomb. Kili’s breath hitched when she turned to his tomb. “And of course you’d want to go, too, Kili. You thought it’s an adventure. You had only ever read of the horrors on the road, but you said you were ready. I didn’t believe you, but I thought-I stupidly believed you’d be safe with all these warriors in your company, with your brother and Thorin.” Dis bowed her head, clenching her frail hands on her lap. When she spoke up again, her voice was unsteady. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy but you had a wizard on your side—that’s what you said, Thorin. It was prophesized that you would take back what is ours, what our father and grandfather failed to reclaim. You said you would come home and then you would return for me to bring me back to our home.” She paused, swaying as if her strength was draining out of her in slow but steady stream. “I made new robes for you to wear as king and princes as I knew the old ones must have been worn out. I set my eyes to the east everyday so I could see you come back. I strained my ears so I could hear your returning footsteps so I could hold you again. I waited. I looked forward to the fulfillment of your promise. But you never came back.”

The breaking of heart was audible in Dis’s voice. She slowly rose, unaware of the ghostly companions beside her, and caressed the cold marble tombs. A soft tune floated in the air, a lullaby. She quietly sang to them peaceful nighttime, stars and moon watching over them, dreams that beckoned them. She sang to them the morning to come, blue sky and golden sun welcoming them, a life waiting to be lived. The haunting song didn’t echo; it disappeared in the cold air here in the depth of the mountain. Her bare feet made no sound as she walked around the tombs. She sang and sang, caressing their final resting places, telling them to rest now so that tomorrow would come soon and take them to wherever their feet brought them and their hearts directed them. She sang until her voice was hoarse and didn’t notice as footsteps approached and Dain emerged from the dark. The king said nothing, though his expression said everything. He stopped Dis and gently guided her back to her room. She didn’t resist, so weakened her spirit was. Their figures were soon swallowed by the darkness on Erebor and their footsteps eventually receded to nothing. The tomb was once again quiet and still.

“I want to hug her,” Kili said harshly, tears in his voice and on his face. He didn’t bother to hide them this time. Who cared if the dead’s heart cracked? “I want to tell her it’s all right. It’s going to be all right. I want to tell her I’m sorry I can’t come back for her. I’m sorry I can’t fulfill my promise to her. I want to tell her to be happy. I want to make her happy one last time.”

“I’m sorry,” Thorin apologized quietly.

It’s not Thorin’s fault. He hadn’t been himself then and he had tried to fix his mistake later, but right now Kili didn’t care. His frustration peaked. The war could’ve been avoided or at least the number of victims could’ve been reduced. He could’ve gone home to Ered Luin to fulfill his promise to his mother, to shower her with riches they had reclaimed, to take her back to her lost home, to make her smile, to make her happy. Instead, people died and suffered and she had to face loneliness and grief all on her own.

“Apology won’t take back the battle! It won’t make Mother happy! It won’t change anything!” he shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls and returning as a whisper. Never had Kili been so upset with Thorin. He had always found reasons to forgive him or his affection had always quickly softened his heart. Love is such a kind forgiving thing, but months of being unable to help anyone and then watching Dis wither away had worn away his patience. In front of him, Thorin bowed his head wordlessly, accepting his fury, but Kili have no mercy for him. With an angry huff, he left Thorin alone.

Kili focused his attention on Dis, refusing to think of how Thorin never came to see his sister anymore. Day and night, Kili and Fili stayed by her side, only leaving when all was quiet and dark and they could take no more of their mother’s blank red-rimmed eyes. They could do nothing, but still they hoped that somehow their unknown company would make a difference. Sometimes she woke in the middle of the night but she didn’t try to go to the tomb anymore, knowing she wouldn’t be allowed to by the guards Dain had placed at her door. She would stare at the night sky or sometimes the city of Dale far away and sing quietly an old lullaby under her sons’ sad eyes. They tried to whisper comfort to her but their voices never reached her and she sang until her voice disappeared and she slipped to her bed again and cried in her dreams. Even under the attentive care of attendants assigned by Dain, she still slowly wasted away. Her spirit, once strong as the mountain, was gone and every day they saw less possibility of its return.

One night, restless wandering led Kili to the great vault of Erebor. He looked at the glittering small mountains warily, reluctant to be too close to them. Dwarfs were usually fond of the valuable, and Durin Folks even more so, but he had only associated it with pain. He knew some of it had been used to repair the damages caused by greed and time, yet it seemed as plentiful as the day Kili had first seen it. He grimaced, looking at the coins, jewelries, and other beauties before him. The dragon’s sickness had created fear of parting with even a single one of these but now, as Kili could clearly see, the loss of far more than that had barely left a mark. Not to mention that once both Erebor and Dale recovered, the amount given away would return manifolds. If only Thorin had realized it, many people would’ve been spared from death and pain. Dis might’ve even been happy, her sons returning to her and her brother finally being crowned king. Kili frowned at the sea of gold balefully. Curse the dragon sickness and the pride of kings!

As if conjured by Kili’s thoughts, Thorin appeared not too far from Kili. There was no chance that he hadn’t seen Kili, but he kept his gaze away from him, whether because he didn’t wish to be disturbed or because of their latest exchange, Kili couldn’t tell. He considered ignoring Thorin because frustration still simmered inside him but the golden light upon Thorin and his sharp eyes fixed on the very thing which had taken him away from his people made Kili worry. The affection that had burned inside Kili since the day he understood love, that had been part of the reason he had followed Thorin in the quest regardless of the risks, that had given his strength to stand beside Thorin at the height of the battle, persisted against anger. Some said love was a weakness. Some days Kili was inclined to agree.

“Do you still want it?” Kili asked wryly. He looked at Thorin from the corners of his eyes, quietly assessing him. Did the dragon’s sickness still held sway over dwarfs’ hearts even after life?

Something flickered on Thorin’s expression, then slowly he shook his head. “Not as before,” he answered quietly.

Kili tightened his lips and looked away. “But you still want it.”

“A lot of things are contained in this vault and I want to preserve that. We’ve lost so much. I hope we won’t lose more,” Thorin explained.

Hard as he tried, Kili couldn’t keep sharp bitterness from his voice. “You hope we won’t lose more gold?”

“No. I hope we won’t lose our history. Records were destroyed, memories have faded, songs have been forgotten since the day we left Erebor. Some of these items here are more than beautiful decorations, they’re also important records of our past. I understand that some of it has to be given away after the battle I’ve caused, but I hope history won’t be gone.”

And there was the dwarf Kili had lost his heart to. There was the dwarf who put the happiness, welfare, and safety of others before his, the dwarf who faced his personal fear for a chance to take back the home of his people. So many flaws were attributed to Thorin, but Kili knew he was more than that, that in his silence he was better than even the kindest words about him. It didn’t surprise Kili when his love pulsed all the harder in his chest in absence of blood, the unseen fire reignited by memory and hope. He chanced a look at Thorin and found him still looking at the gold with carefully guarded expression. “Is that really all you’re worried about?” he asked, still careful but much kinder this time.

Thorin’s composure cracked for a split second, revealing fear. He shifted and for a moment Kili thought he would leave, but he didn’t. There was a war in his mind, his natural tendency to hide his inner feelings and thoughts remained even now. Kili wished he could bring his wall down. “No,” Thorin said after a lengthy pause. “I fear the sickness. I still remember what it did to me and what it made me do to others.”

“I don’t think it will happen again,” Kili remarked.

“You don’t know that,” Thorin argued quietly.

“I know you,” Kili said honestly with a small shrug.

Thorin sighed and turned to look him with a mixture of wariness and fondness. “You’ve always had too much faith in me. I wish I have that confidence but I can feel it inside me, urging me to claim this gold.”

An ache started in Kili’s chest. It reminded him of the days before they departed to Shire. In front of his company, Thorin had been the picture of the perfect leader: commanding, confident, thoughtful, and determined. But behind closed doors, when all had gone away but the shadows on the Blue Mountain, Kili had seen that the ghost of his family history had plagued him still. He hadn’t been sure of his ability to succeed the mission, but he had had no choice. The task had fallen onto him and he had carried it to the best of his ability, risking his life and sanity in the process. Despite knowing this, Kili had insisted on following him, fully trusting him to achieve what many had failed to do. He had stayed by Thorin’s side through unprecedented dangers. He had obeyed even after knowing the dragon’s sickness had taken over Thorin’s mind. He had fully believed in the honorable dwarf Thorin had always been but never quite believed himself to be, but it was this confidence and loyalty that had brought them to this moment, that had put so many, Dis included, in heartache and pain. It had been a mistake to be loyal and it shook Kili when he realized he would do it all over again for nothing more than to be with Thorin.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Kili said quietly.

“Kili?”

Thorin tried to approach him but Kili stepped away. He was dead but trapped in the world of the living, his mother was slowly fading away before his own eyes, and he was still far too in love with his own uncle to give him the doubt and anger he deserved. The anger he had revealed before had broken his determination for secrecy. Kili swallowed thickly, trying vainly to summon the strength he had used for many decades to keep his feelings quiet, but the words he had hidden for so long slowly rose to his lips, demanding to be spoken.

“I’ve trusted you too much. I believe in you, no matter what you think of yourself, no matter what you’ve done, although I’ve experienced for myself the consequences of your action. I should be worried when you said the sickness is still with you. I should doubt you, but I don’t. I can’t. I won’t.” Kili paused, his chest tight. He should stop now before it’s too late, before he ruined everything, but he couldn’t. “They do say love is blind.”

The shock that greeted Kili when he looked at Thorin was expected. He smiled bitterly and left without a word. He walked in the shadows of the mountain that would never be his home until the sun had reached the west. Whenever he heard quiet footsteps, he half-expected Thorin to come after him to yell at him or explain to him how wrong he was. Not even now did Kili dare to dream for Thorin to return his feelings. He knew all too well that the best he could hope for was to not be ignored, to be more than a background noise. He had been spoiled, he knew. Even at his angriest, Thorin could never be mean to Kili for long, always coming to him with subtle gestures of apology. But this time, the footsteps and voices belong to others. However long Kili walked around Erebor, peering into the darkness, Thorin didn’t come. Kili smiled bitterly to himself, unsurprised and yet still heartbroken. Stupidly he still kept a small hope that things would return to the way they had been, but what other result there might be from confession of forbidden affection?

Many say love brings happiness, but the kind of love Kili had only brought pain. It was a mistake to confess, but it was too late to take it back. Losing hope to ever be close to Thorin, Kili faithfully stayed with his mother. He never left her again, no matter how the sight of her tortured him. Every day he hoped for a recovery as Dis’s attendants coax her to eat and rest. However, she only seemed to lose her desire to move on by day. She barely ate enough and her sleep was often interrupted. Attempts to engage her in conversations were ignored, the only times she spoke were when she gently refused her attendants’ urging to care for herself better. Under her sons’ watchful eyes, she became a shell of the dwarf he used to be. She grew paler and her bones protrude from under thin skin. Her eyes were dull and unfocused. She had no interest in anything anymore. Books, dresses, jewelries, paintings, and other items she used to love were left untouched. The strength of character she was known for seemed to only be memory. She outlived her kin, but only just.

More and more, Kili and Fili tried to touch Dis and talk to her, just in case they could somehow reach her even if only as a whisper. However, she showed no sign of recognizing these, staying quiet no matter of her sons screamed, fading away no matter how her sons begged her to stay. When Dain surprisingly came for a visit, they nearly lost all hope. He had come a few times in the past to try to draw Dis out of her sorrow. Each occasion had been a failure, but, true to the stubborn nature of dwarfs, he didn’t seem discouraged. He was patient and gentle with Dis, starting with mundane topics to try to gain her reaction. When nothing seemed to be able to gain more than polite responses, he persisted. His boisterous laughter filled the large room when he told her some jokes, but her smile was devoid of glee. Even when Dis’s attendants were hard-pressed to not laugh, Dis barely responded. Kili and Fili looked at each other in disappointment. This seemed to be yet another failure, but Dain seemed to think differently.

Suddenly, Dain stood up. “Let’s go for a walk,” he announced.

Dis blinked owlishly. “I’m sorry, Dain, but I’d rather…”

Dain shook his head, stopping her argument. “You must come with me, cousin. Let me show you Erebor.”

Dis frowned. “I really would rather not.”

But, Dain was persistent. “You need to see Erebor.”

“What is there to see?” Dis asked harshly, losing her patience. “I know every corner in this mountain! I still remember every passage and hall! I don’t need to see anything. The only ones I _want_ to see are gone!”

Dain was quiet as Dis looked away to control her feelings. Such reaction would be deemed an affront to king, whether it came from a princess or not, but Dain didn’t look offended at all. This wasn’t the cantankerous dwarf who led an army during the battle a year prior, but the wise King under the Mountain whose kindness and understanding were as abundant as the gold in his kingdom. “I understand that you want to mourn Thorin and your sons,” he began carefully. “But I believe you need to come and see what you’ve left behind and what Thorin, Fili, and Kili have regained.”

The look Dis gave Dain was full of hurt and doubt, but she finally nodded reluctantly. Dain smiled in relief and led her toward the hall, Kili and Fili following them hesitantly. They passed familiar halls where guards bowed as Dain walked past. Sunlight streamed in from open balconies, warming green marble and lighting up gold decorations. Dis cringed when the light reached her, having grown unaccustomed to it in her months inside her room, but she didn’t stop or ask to return. She stayed quiet as Dain brought her deep into the mountain. At first, Kili thought he was leading her to the forge or the vault or even the mines, but he was wrong. Dain brought Dis to crisscrossing bridges that connect Erebor. There, near the heart of the mountain, they could feel the hum of life around them. Around them green marbled darkened until it became pitch black, with small dots from distant torches showing signs of lives. Though the sun didn’t reach this place, torchlight showed the extent of the restoration which had taken place. No mark was left from the time the dwarfs were forced to vacate the kingdom, age and destruction had been replaced by Dain’s hardworking dwarfs.

“Didn’t we use to run around this place?” Dain reminisced. “They told us to stop because we kept falling. It was a much simpler time, wasn’t it?”

“Much happier as well,” Dis added quietly.

Dain nodded in agreement. “We never listened, especially you. Didn’t you tell me that this is your favorite part of Erebor? I don’t understand, to be honest. This looks like a perfectly ordinary place to me,” he said, looking around them in curiosity.

Dis hesitated, looking around the place she used to love. For a moment, she seemed to saver under the heavy weight of her memory, but she bit her lip and spoke up. “This was the best place to see what made Erebor what it was. From here you could see the guardrooms that had protected Erebor and its people for centuries, making our warriors famous across Middle Earth. Here, though deep inside a mountain, the air was warm because of the tirelessly-burning forges where master craftsmen produced beauties day and night, enriching the dwarfs, making us the envy of all other races. Nearby were the living quarters, the true heart of Erebor, where people worked, drank with their friends, and spent time with their families, living in prosperity and safety under their king.”

“Is it very different now from your memory?” Dain asked.

“It… No, not by much. It is almost exactly how it was before.”

Dain hummed in satisfaction. “Let’s continue walking.”

Where Dain took Dis next, there were a lot more people. The din of daily life became louder and louder. They moved deeper into the mountain but it was brighter due to increasing number of torches and candles. The walls were no longer smooth and barren but carved with various designs, secret codes of many points in their long history. Kili wanted to stay to study them but Dain didn’t stop. He kept walking through more corridors and then up a couple of flights of stairs. A few times, Dis slowed down in exhaustion and her sons came to her. They couldn’t help her, of course, but Dain always lifted her to her feet, carefully supporting her until she managed to stand on her own. Their pace was slow to accommodate Dis, but eventually they reached a lookout. Before and below them were dwarves were busy going on their own ways. Groups of workers carried their tools to some parts of the kingdom which were still in need of reparation, miners happily carried bags containing their findings to the forge where they would be turned into beautiful items, soldiers were spotted monitoring the area although there was no threat to be concerned about, merchants led hired workers who carried their goods deeper into the mountain, and families and friends walked together, chatting happily and pointing at things they saw.

Dain frowned when a child fell after tripping on an uneven ground. Her cry was barely audible among all the voices but her mother quickly rushed to take her into her arms and soothe her.

“I should issue a warning to families with young children. There are works done everywhere and some places are not safe to go to. Adults should watch the children more carefully. We don’t want them to get hurt,” he said.

This jolted Dis into awareness. “Are there many children here?” she asked, craning her neck to better look at the crowd before her.

“Quite a lot, and there are only more to come,” Dain replied, nodding.

“Dwarfs from Iron Hills?”

“From everywhere. The exiled dwarfs are on their way home.” Dain smiled. “We are expecting dwarfs from Ered Luin to arrive in a couple of months. Perhaps you will see some of your friends.”

Dis blinked, as if surprised by the mention of her friends. She had many in Ered Luin and her house had been rarely without visitor. Some of these dwarfs were of noble heritage, but many were those one might deem below her standing. Nevertheless, she had treated them equally. Kili was accustomed to the sight of his mother sitting with a miner on one side and a noble lady on the other. They all were dear to Dis’s heart regardless of position. No doubt they had missed her so in her absence, but in her mourning for her sons and brother she had forgotten it. “Perhaps,” she agreed quietly. “Are your family and friends here as well?”

Dain nodded. “My family arrived a few months ago and some of my friends followed me here. Others will come in time, or perhaps I will have to visit them to remind them of me!”

“What will become of Iron Hills now that you’re here?”

“It will continue as usual,” Dain explained. “I have assigned some people to govern in my absence, although I will appoint a proper new lord to replace me soon. I trust my advisors completely, but it’s not good to keep Iron Hills without a leader for too long.”

“That is very wise,” Dis complimented, drawing a proud grin from Dain.

They stayed at the outlook for a while, Dain explaining the works and activities currently taking place in the mountain and Dis listening quietly while observing the dwarfs. She seemed more alert now, but not yet quite aware of her surroundings, as if she had just woken from a cruel dream. Kili and Fili looked at each other. They dared not hope yet, but Dis’s future didn’t seem so bleak anymore. They followed when Dain took Dis elsewhere. This time, she didn’t tire as easily as before although she needed to lean on Dain or the wall to remain standing sometimes. When they reached a corridor with open balconies, Dain stopped as she shielded her eyes from the glaring sunlight. Dis blinked rapidly to adjust to the light. Once she’s ready, she nodded to Dain instead of letting him decide when to continue walking. He smiled at this and led her to one of the balconies.

They weren’t so high that the wind was too strong, but it still blew Dis’s hair and dress almost wildly. For a moment, Kili had an irrational thought that she would be swept away—her wavering didn’t help—but she found purchase on the guardrail, leaning on it heavily. Once she was stable, she took a good look of the view before them. Sprawled under them was a green field with a road carved on it leading to Erebor. Dwarfs rode their ponies up and down the road. A couple of heavily-loaded carriages were seen also, no doubt transporting hopeful dwarfs returning to Erebor. There were faint sounds of metal against rocks as unseen workers repaired the damages done on the exterior of the kingdom. Ravens flew by and, as if recognizing her, some landed nearby, looking at her and Dain curiously. In the distance, they could see Dale. No longer was it ruins. It was now a real city with new strong buildings replacing old shambles. Pops of colors were easily spotted even from this distance and in the sky above it colorful kites gently floated in the wind. They could hear no voice of the city from the balcony, but it was clear that life had returned to the previously destroyed city.

“There’s still a lot of work to be done. I prioritize rebuilding—Dale especially must have shelters in this cold mountain weather—but I have planned to reopen some trade routes, hopefully this summer. The Bard has been very helpful in our discussions and promised to help. And so has Thranduil.” Though he said the elvenking’s name with a slight grimace, Dain refrained from insulting him.

Dis blinked. “Even the elves?” she asked in surprise.

“Indeed.” Dain nodded. “It won’t be easy to rebuild our alliance, especially considering past… poor decisions, but we are both committed to prospering our peoples.” He smiled. “It won’t be long until you see the Erebor you remember.”

“But it won’t be the Erebor I lived in,” Dis said sadly.

“No, it won’t. It will be different. But different isn’t always bad. Different could be better.”

Dis trembled slightly, her fingers digging into the stone guardrail. “Thorin… Thorin always wanted to make Erebor greater,” she choked out.

“And it will be greater,” Dain assured her. He reached for Dis’s hand and held it gently. “Everyone in Erebor, Dale, Mirkwood, and every dwarf displaced from Erebor owe their life to Thorin and your sons. Thorin, Fili, and Kili will be immortalized in stories and songs and never will a dwarf experience joy without remembering them, and in distress their courage and perseverance will be remembered. Even now I have heard of their songs sung, their memories preserved and honored. Their legacy will continue on, long after we are both gone. Their legacy is the future of the dwarf race, a future with a warm and safe home and great happiness with nothing lacking.”

Dis’s lips trembled and tears welled in her eyes. She bowed her head, hiding her sadness from nearby guards but in vain. Her frail body was soon wrecked by sobs. She tried to hold herself but it didn’t help, her hands shaking on her sides. Her sons rushed to her, wanting to comfort her but unable to. Their hands hovered just over her thin body and their soothing words disappeared in thin air. Dain’s firm hold on her was the only thing that kept her standing. Kili feared she would lose herself in sorrow again. However, when Dis looked up, tears rolling down her face, there was a smile on her lips.

“What great legacy you’ve left us, Thorin, Fili, and Kili,” she whispered. “What great happiness you’ve given us.”

Fili and Kili stood aside as Dis wiped her tears away and gave Dain a weak smile. They then returned inside the mountain with Dis learning on her cousin. They spoke no more as Dain brought her back to her room. Her tears still fell but there was a smile on her face now, unsteady though it was. When Dain was leaving, she reached out and gripped his hand tightly. They exchanged no word for it was unnecessary. Dain gently squeezed Dis’s hand and left her, but this time not to her grief. This time, after the door closed behind him, the smiled stayed and when Dis closed his eyes to rest her sons saw peace enveloping her.

In the days that followed, Dis grew stronger in body and mind. Life returned to her brilliant blue eyes and no longer was she shrouded in sorrow. Though her body was still frail, her mind was sharp again. She asked her attendants about the current happenings in Erebor and Dale. When Dain came to visit, they discussed his plans to develop their kingdom. Kili and Fili watched her became the princess she always was: Strong, intelligent, and caring. When she started to leave her room, they watched people fall in love with her, the last princess of the kings of Erebor. She didn’t disappoint, meeting every one of expectations placed upon her with relative ease. It was difficult to believe that only until recently, she had barred herself in her room, ceaselessly grieving over her dead brother and sons. Only her shorn beard and her black dresses showed that she was, and forever would be, in mourning. Her presence in palatial life and in the politics of Erebor showed that she was not a ghost in any sense of the word. The line of Durin lived in her, through her the past spoke, and it was her that the living listened attentively to.

One day, she requested a visit to Dale, much to everyone’s surprise. Excitement filled her rooms for the first time in nearly a year. She smiled patiently as her attendants hastily prepared ponies and guards for her. When some voiced their concern over security, Dis merely smiled and showed her dagger. Here was not the grieving mother and sister anymore, but a fearless dwarf princess. Nobody could refuse her, not when she displayed such serenity and confidence. Not too long after, she rode off with only a handful of guards and attendants, his violet coat blowing in the gentle late spring wind. When sun shone upon her face, she paused and looked up, smiling, before continuing her way to Dale.

Kili followed her as he always did but he stopped just before the gate when he realized that Fili wasn’t with him. He turned back and saw his brother look at Dis with a peculiar expression on his face. Fili stared for a long time at the distancing party until the gate was shut, blocking the sun, leaving only torchlights to shine upon them, then he finally looked at Kili.

“I have to go,” he said. There was a smile on his peaceful face and his eyes were troubled no more. Kili couldn’t remember ever seeing him this way, so full of contentment, and it frightened him.

Kili rushed to his brother, holding his arm tightly. “Go where?”

Fili ruffled Kili’s hair affectionately. “I don’t know, but it’s time for me to go.” He paused, searching Kili’s eyes. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

Kili tried to find within him whatever it was that pulled Fili away from here, from Erebor, from their mother, from their past. He searched deep in his heart, listened carefully to his mind. But, he found nothing. There was no desire to leave. He still wanted to stay. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, what he was looking forward to, but he didn’t feel compelled to go with Fili and find the peace and glory promised to them in old songs and tales. Instead, his mind whispered reluctance to leave the known and face the unknown. A force bound him to Erebor, not allowing him to go with Fili. Somehow, he knew even if he tried, he wouldn’t succeed. He had to stay here longer yet.

“Kili?” Fili asked, frowning.

“I-I can’t go,” Kili replied. “I can’t go yet.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know.” Kili tightened his grip on Fili’s arm. He wasn’t a child anymore. He had witnessed the worst a warrior’s life had to offer. He was strong. Yet, the thought of being separated from his brother filled him with fear. He was never separated for too long from him and who knew how long it would last this time, or even whether he would see Fili again. Kili had lost so much and what remained he could only watch from the distance. He didn’t want to let Fili go.

But it was a selfish wish. He mustn’t hold Fili back. Now that his brother would and could find peace, he mustn’t stop him, no matter how it hurt him. He knew the magnificent hall that awaited Fili filled the familiar faces of those who had fought alongside them and the figures who had passed down to them such great legacy but they had never met and their father... Oh, how Kili missed their father. How he wished to hold him and listen to him and talk to him, rebuilding his waning memory with him, making up the decades Kili had spent without him. Kili wished he could go with Fili, accompany them as he usually did. He wished he also had found that peace. But he hadn’t, so he must stay and let Fili go.

“Go,” Kili said, looking at Fili with trembling smile. “I’ll be all right.”

Fili hesitated, but it was clear that he wanted to go, the pull too strong for him to resist. “Are you sure?”

Kili nodded. “I am.”

Fili pulled Kili into a tight embrace, their last one. Kili buried his face in his brother’s shoulder to hide his tears. He mustn’t cry. He should be happy for Fili. He mustn’t make him sad. Kili bit his lip and held onto his brother tightly, trying to remember this, for he didn’t know when he would experience it again, when he would reunite with Fili. When Fili pulled away, he almost didn’t let go, not wanting to face the separation which came far too soon, but he released his brother from his too-tight embrace. He smiled when Fili looked at his face closely. He etched this image of Fili so caring and full of contentment in his memory. It was pale in comparison to his actual presence, but it had to be enough to hold his longing at bay until they could see each other again, whenever that might be.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Fili promised.

Kili nodded wordlessly, not trusting his voice to not crack. His throat was clogged and tears finally streamed down his face when he watched Fili walked away into the deep halls of Erebor. His steps were slow but sure as darkness slowly enveloped him, taking him from view, taking him from Kili. Never once did he look back. Never once did Kili call him. Fili kept walking until ghostly footsteps were all that was left and even that slowly receded. The noises of lives across Erebor filled the mountain that remained unaware. Life went on. Fili was gone.

Kili tried to return to Dis’s room afterward, but he couldn’t. His steps were slow and heavy, as if his legs were laden with rocks. People walked around him, unaware of him, but he couldn’t bear to look at them. Friends and family were slowly taken away from him. Those who were left didn’t know about his company or didn’t need it. He knew it was for the best, but still the loneliness stung. Kili choked down a sob. He thought of everything he had gone through with Fili: Their childish adventures, their visits to taverns, their hunts, their trainings, their lessons, their fights, their chats, their care for each other, their first and final battle, their togetherness in the endless hours of death. No more of those now. No more brother he admired and loved. No more Fili and Kili, just Kili.

Kili sat down in the dark, far from the busy daily life of Erebor, and hung his head. His hands were tightly clenched into fists as he fought to steady his breaths. He was strong. He had told Fili that he would be all right and he truly would be. He sobbed. He was strong. He didn’t fear being alone. His tears wouldn’t stop falling. He was strong. He would be all right until his time come. His heart ached and his throat was constricted as if once again he faced death. He was strong. He was strong.

“Where is Fili?”

Though the voice came suddenly, Kili had no power left to be surprised. “He has left,” he said without even glancing at Thorin,

Thorin was quiet for a moment. “Why aren’t you with him?”

Kili shut his eyes tightly. “I can’t. I want to but… I can’t.”

There was silence and then Thorin sat down next to Kili. Kili swallowed thickly, recognizing Thorin’s quiet way to show that he cared. Kili wasn’t strong, not as much as he wanted to be, but he was not truly alone. Thorin was here. Thorin would help him get through this, help him carry some of his sorrow. Thorin would make it easier. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, but one day Kili would be strong enough to stand on his own, to look back on everything he had left behind with nothing but a pang of regret, but before the day arrived he had Thorin with him, lending him the strength he lacked, giving him the companionship he craved until he could see those who had passed before him. Kili bit his lip as more tears escaped his eyes.

They sat together in the dark as Kili slowly regained control over his feelings. He closed his eyes and tried to find stability in the safety of Erebor’s stone walls. He could feel the humming of life in the air in the muted sounds and voices carried across the mountain. The large forge pumped warmth into their mountain kingdom. Time stops for no one, even the dead. Kili roughly wiped his wet eyes with the back of his gloved hand. The treatment barely caused a smidgeon of pain. He dropped his hand and took a deep breath.

“I should be happy for him,” he croaked out. “But I…” He shrugged, unable to go on.

“Of course,” Thorin said quietly, subtly shifting closer to Kili. “You two were always very close.”

Kili looked at Thorin and was surprised when he saw deep sadness in his eyes. He had been so focused on himself that he forgot that Thorin, too, had to let his sister-son go. Moreover, unlike Kili who had only experienced the loss of his father before this, Thorin had seen the passing of so many of his kin. Pain and loneliness weren’t only for Kili to borne. If anything, the weight upon Thorin must be heavier than his. Kili’s hand twitched, longing to hold Thorin’s. He had always relied on Thorin for strength and support, now he had to provide the same for Thorin. After all, they were now all alone.

“I will see him again. Maybe not tomorrow or soon, but one day I will, when I’ve found my peace, wherever that might be.” He steeled himself against the wave of pain the words brought. Somehow, he succeeded to not break down again, though the ache was as real as if it were physical. He turned to Thorin, offering him a small smile. “I suppose I should search for my peace now.”

“You should,” Thorin agreed, nodding slowly.

Kili rubbed his wet eyes and took a deep breath. “Where do I start?” he wondered quietly. There were so many lose ends, unrealized plans, and unrepaired mistakes, many things that kept him restless. Kili closed his eyes tiredly but then remembered his companion. He must be strong for both of them. “Do you know why you’re still here?” Kili asked, instead.

Thorin took his time to reply but his voice left no doubt that he was sure of the answer he gave, “I’m still watching Erebor.” Thorin lowered his eyes, lips drawn down. Suddenly he looked unsure, vulnerable. When he spoke, his voice was quiet with an edge of sadness that made Kili’s heart clenched painfully. “I want to see with my own eyes that I haven’t completely failed, that I haven’t ruined everything with my mistakes. I want to be sure that Erebor could recover and that it could withstand any challenge in the future. I want to see it safe and prosperous as I should’ve made it.”

“Erebor will be all right. Dain is a fine king and the dwarfs are hopeful and strong. They will make it!” Kili assured Thorin, hating to see such unhappiness on Thorin.

Thorin smiled lightly but there was little happiness in his eyes. “I know. But I need to see it for myself,” he said in resignation brought by failure to fight his addled mind.

In that moment, Kili understood why he still stayed. He couldn’t leave Thorin like this, plagued by guilt and tortured by uncertainty. He couldn’t leave Thorin stranded alone in nonexistence while the rest of the world went on around him. Thorin might be strong, but he wasn’t invulnerable. He wouldn’t admit it, preferring to keep his distance, keeping his thoughts and feelings to no one but himself. He tried so hard to appear untouchable, but wasn’t cold and heartless, and it was his heart that was most tortured by his past. He wouldn’t admit, no matter how he hurt, that he needed someone. But Kili knew this, had always known this since the second his heart was stolen away. That had been why Kili persisted to stay by his side, providing company although at times it had been rejected harshly. He had offered distraction, support, power, temporary joy, everything Thorin wanted but never asked for. He would offer them again now when Thorin needed it most and was silenced more than ever. Kili couldn’t leave Thorin now, just as he couldn’t leave him before.

“We will see it together,” Kili said. He smiled when Thorin looked at him in surprise. “I can’t let you think you’ve done irreparable mistakes.”

“I’ll be all right,” Thorin said, sitting straighter to appear strong, but Kili saw through his façade.

Kili shook his head. “I know you. You will blame yourself for every setback and you won’t be truly satisfied until every single dwarf in this mountain is happy and safe from harm. I won’t leave you alone constantly blaming yourself over everything! I can’t!”

Thorin sighed and looked away. “I can’t let you do that for me. You’ve done enough for me already,” he said regretfully.

“It will be enough only when you’re happy and you’re clearly not right now! I can help! Ask and know that I will give my best!” Kili insisted. When Thorin continued to be unmoved, Kili remembered his ill-timed confession and pulled away. “If it’s my feelings for you that bothers you, I will keep my distance. I will stay away. Just let me accompany you and help you when things are difficult. Call for me and I will come. Let me take care of you or at least try to…”

Thorin’s lips captured what Kili had to say next. His eyes fluttered close and his body trembled ever so slightly as Thorin gently deepen the kiss. Happiness he had almost forgotten seeped into his soul. Decades of secret dreams didn’t come close to the softness of Thorin’s lips, the tenderness of his kiss, and the joy that filled his heart so completely he felt he was almost fit to burst. Kili let out a shuddery breath against Thorin’s lips. Slowly, he kissed Thorin back and at the quiet hum this drew out, he tilted his head to better slot them together. When the kiss ended, Kili didn’t want to open his eyes, not wanting the wakeful fantasy to stop, but he felt Thorin’s lips ghosting over his cheeks, he heard Thorin’s shuddering breath though he didn’t feel it, and he knew this was real. Kili opened his eyes and found Thorin’s gaze.

“Your feelings don’t bother me at all,” Thorin said softly. He reached up to cup Kili’s cheek, a sad smile blooming on his face. “I’ve always wanted you beside me—I couldn’t resist having you near—but I only put you in harm’s way.”

Kili held Thorin’s hand on his cheek. It was cold, almost as cold as the marble walls of Erebor, but Kili only felt warmth and, although he knew there was none, he thought he felt the phantom throbs of veins pumping blood through Thorin’s body. “What harm can touch us now?” Kili asked.

Thorin pulled his hand away slowly. “The future won’t be easy, we’ll relive the past over and over, we’ll see things and people we know disappear, we’ll see difficulties but unable to do anything but watch.” He looked at Kili gloomily. “Staying with me means experiencing all these. I can’t make you do this for me.”

Kili thought of his poor mother. His heart ached when he thought of her passing, the last of Durin line finally joining her kin. He wanted her to be happy forever, to live for those before her whose lives were cut short. He wanted her to never know the pain of and coldness of death. However, these were beyond his control. No matter how fervently he wished, even if he had survived the battle, there was no stopping the course of time. She would eventually pass away, just as everyone he knew. The company would eventually pass and Dain would eventually be replaced. Even Erebor would change though it had withstood the test of violence and time. Old things would perish and new things would come to replace them. At one point Kili knew he wouldn’t be able to recognize anything around him, but the inevitable prospect didn’t frighten him. The future wouldn’t be easy, but it wouldn’t be all gloomy, either. Hope wouldn’t so easily disappear, especially when nurtured by dwarfs’ resilient character. “There is definitely pain to come, but so is happiness,” Kili said, smiling encouragingly. “The good and the bad, I will face them all with you.”

“I don’t know how long it will take-maybe years or decades or even centuries. I don’t know when or _if_ I’ll be satisfied,” he warned.

Kili nodded. “I know. I don’t mind,” he said, as sure as he knew that the end is always coming. He had loved Thorin for too long to question what he offered. After all, he had offered it for as long as he could remember. “We can share forever.”

Worry marred Thorin’s face for a moment as he looked at Kili, but then he closed his eyes and it slowly transformed into acceptance. He reached for Kili’s hand and squeezed it lightly. Kili leaned forward to kiss Thorin, pouring the love and devotion threatening to burst from his chest into the kiss. He smiled when Thorin held him tightly, returning his feelings without words. It wasn’t quite peace he felt—at least not the kind that drew Fili to their father’s hall—but there was safety, calmness, and happiness rolled into one. He felt almost complete and even the ache in his chest receded.

A story grew in Erebor, passed down from generation to generation. It spoke of footsteps in the dark, quiet conversations in silence, and songs in the breeze. Some even spoke of figures in the shadows and faint forms walking down sunbathed hallways. But no one feared them as there was no malice in the presence, only love, unseen but undeniable in their hearts of hearts. The dwarfs smiled when they heard dancing footsteps and happy voices from the past that warmed the lonely peak more that the ever burning forge ever could and lighted the kingdom more than the sun ever would. These were no frightful creature of the dark, but memories filled with care and affection. Decades and centuries passed. Erebor continued to prosper under her kings even through wars, harsh elements, and changes great and small, going far beyond the expectations placed upon the once-abandoned kingdom. Then one day, the footsteps and voices were heard no more and the darkness hid no ghostly figure. The dwarfs of Erebor gathered then in a feast never before seen. Day and night they sang and danced, and at the end of it they raised their swords, celebrating the peace that had finally found the last of Durin’s sons.

**Author's Note:**

> Visit me on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/) to say hi, talk about thorinkili, or buy what’s left of my soul with photosets/gif sets/arts of thorinkili.


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